


W

by barghest



Category: Hannibal (TV), Petshop of Horrors
Genre: Creepy Hannibal, Crossover, Dogs, Gen, Puppy Love, Someone Helps Will Graham, Supernatural Elements, Winter, and that someone is a dog, damn straight, dont look a gift horse in the mouth ok, woof woof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 16:24:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5340695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barghest/pseuds/barghest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A peculiar pet shop springs up in Baltimore, and Will cannot resist a visit. But, is the newest member of his pack all that they seem?</p>
            </blockquote>





	W

**Author's Note:**

> hannibal kinkmeme fill but honestly thisis really bad bc i havent read petshop of horrors and this goes nowhere, i kept havin to push myself to continue it (probs largely bc im not used to writing in past tense so everything sounds awful/more awful than usual). well here it is. i Hate
> 
> also this was supposed to have a pairing in it but it didnt really except for thinly veiled and completely unintentional will/alana i guess whoops

The shop was small, crowded, squeezed in between two buildings in the back streets of Baltimore where previously there had been naught but a small wall separating them. It had stretched the street a few feet further, which etched a frown onto Will Graham's forehead as he found the junction at the other end further away than normal. He almost mounted the pavement, the wheels of his vehicle bumping a little against the curb before he switched on enough to steer away. How strange, to forget the length of a road he drove nearly every day.

It would take him two days to master the extra stretch of tarmac, and two more for him to notice the little store - dusty sign in the front door proclaiming 'We're Open!'

Will does not think himself a curious type any more, but he ventured up the steps after work, the autumn dusk creeping in over the rows of houses, a chill about his fingers as he let himself in. 

A bell tinkled distantly - the shop seemed empty, except for the cages, creatures scurrying through the shadows, the gentle rustle of bedding under small feet put him at ease. Running a hand through his hair, he crouched down to softly greet some of the animals, fingers extended to touch their wiggling snouts. Some, to him, looked normal - fat, glossy rats who pressed their whiskers to the bars in greeting, an emerald parrot that reached out to tap at his glasses when he leaned close enough - but in of the cages, his attention was caught by strange limbs, the gleam of too many eyes for one animal.

A soft woof emanated from his left, and Will turned, hand already fingering the dog treats in his pocket. He rested his knees on the ground as the creature approached warily, nose twitching a little. Still no attendant had appeared, so Will leaned forward a little, bringing his hand up for the creature (a dog, it revealed itself to be, shaggy haired and golden brown, ears floppy) to sniff. Its tail began to wag a little as it inched closer.

"I see you have found yourself a fan, Mr. Graham," Will's shoulders hunched up at the voice, and he stood hurriedly, a hand dusting off his knees. The speaker's smile was warm, his suit seeming too well tailored for a pet shop owner, but he nodded to the dog anyway, "he is a lovely specimen. We have been looking for a home for him for quite some time, and so far, we have failed. Do you like him?"

Will swallowed a little, hands fiddling with the slightly tatty hem on his jacket - he could feel the judgement in the man's gaze as it swept up and down him, taking in the loose curls on his forehead, the plaid shirt (not ironed, slightly rumpled) under his jacket. He turned his sheepish gaze to the floor, "he's very handsome. I…doubt I could afford him, though." The shop owner - for that was what he had to be, despite the shine of his shoes and the handkerchief tucked in his breast pocket - all but beamed.

"I would love him to go to a home who cared for him, dearly," stepping round Will, the shopkeeper unlocked the cage, inviting the dog out, who immediately moved towards Will. It gently nuzzled at his hand, sniffing for treats. "For you, such a fine new customer, he is free."

"Free?," the crease in Will's forehead melted away.

The shopkeeper nodded, behind the corner in the blink of an eye and producing a white collar, so bright that Will found himself looking away, "free, but with three rules. One, no others must see him but yourself. Two, you must never take this off him," he approached to slide the band of what seemed like light around the dog's neck, where it dimmed slowly, the bearable glow of snow in the moonlight now wrapped around the canine's neck. "And three, you must love him."

Will allowed himself a small smile, dog treats in hand as he knelt to feed them to the dog, "I'm sure I can do that."

The shop owner smiled, the edges of his face seeming to crackle with the action, "then he is all yours, Mr. Graham. Do look after each other."

It was only in the car on the way home that it occurred to Will that he had never given the man his name.

\--

Will decided on Winston, as the dog's name, and it was but two weeks before he broke the first rule of the contract.

He brought Alana over to visit, and Winston darted from his clutches, bouncing down the steps of his porch with the rest of the pack to greet her, tongue as floppy as his ears. He woofed gently in greeting and she knelt in the fresh snow to ruffle his neck fur, laughing as he licked at her hands, intrigued by the flavour of her gloves. Will's cheeks paled a little in memory of the curve of the shopkeeper's thin lips when he had spoken of the rule - but nothing happened. All evening, Winston circled the table for scraps and lent his head on Alana's knee, looking up hopefully.

"He's lovely!," Alana gave in, slipping him a morsel of chicken, "you're honestly making me want to get one now." Will scratched his beard with the side of his hand, trying to hide his smile.

Nothing happened all evening, until Alana left, and the lights were switched off in Will's house, one by one.

He lay in the dark for a few moments, his breath misting the air above him, before he invited the dogs up onto the bed, their fur and wet snuffling a comfort in the cold that descended upon the house. It seemed colder than usual, so Will pulled the blankets up and over his companions, scolding one quietly for a cold paw that pressed against his leg. He counted the heads snuggled in to his body - five, six, seven, he missed the floppy ears and soft ruff of Winston, usually resting on his chest.

"Winston?," the mass around him shifted, a sea of furry limbs tucking themselves closer as he sat up in the gloom. "Winston. C'mere, boy."

The sea shifted around him, and parted to let the dark in - Will shrank a little against his pillows, Winston's name dying on his lips as wet fur grazed against his skin. An eye opened, close to the sheets, followed by another, and another, black holes that threatened to suck him in if he dared look as they spread through the shadows around the bed. A small whimper tailed out from under the covers, and Will reached to pat in reassurance, a damp nose pushing into his hand.

"Winston?," his voice seemed to echo around the house as the shadows rippled over his feet, chilling his toes - the prickle in the back of the neck told him, he should not have let Alana see him, he had broken the rule - and up his legs, teeth pulling at his boxers. His phone too far away to reach (who would he call, anyway?), Will inched back a little. Amidst the folds, he spotted the collar, dim under Winston's ashen fur. Will's arm extended, fingers pushing into the wet fur, parting it like soil.

"Winston," he spoke again, softer, his fingers slid into the hound's fur as the eyes grew bigger - he could fall into them! He could fall into the fur, as it engulfed his legs, the cold seeping into his skin. "Winston," Will felt tears in his eyes, a second hand joining the first in the furry shadows, and he leaned forward, the collar brushing his cheek. He whispered his apology into the mass in his arms, and Will felt wet, wet, wet, soaking into his sheets as he wrapped the shadows in his arms.

"I'm sorry," his lips were muffled as Winston's eyes stared at him, leaning closer as Will hugged him tighter. In his arms, the shadows dried slowly, soaked only in sweat and dew from the grass outside, and the salt in Will's eyes as he held the creature close. He pushed his face into the fur, and the fur dried, the eyes fading away until only two remained, blinking and familiar.

A tongue replaced the chill on Wil's cheek, rasping against his chin in greeting, and Will flopped back on the pillows. In the pale moonlight drifting in the window, Winston is a deep golden again, dark eyes warm, paws cold from the snow as they patter on Will's lap.

\--

It was Alana who broke the second rule, rough and tumbling in the snow when she came again to visit. Winston watched from the top of the porch, tail wagging slowly - Will worried about letting him be seen again, but he seemed pacified, his form still doggy as he leaped forward, kicking up slush and barking at the other dogs. Winston had stayed apart from the shadows since the first time he was seen, and Will wondered - wondered if perhaps the third rule had kept Winston a dog.

It was Alana, unintentional as she let one of Will's pack nip at her coat sleeve, who's fingers accidentally tugged at Winston's collar as she almost tripped, and the bright band of leather snapped away from his neck. She stumbled to one knee, the glowing strip tight in her hand, as Winston wheeled away.

"Alana!," Will hurried over, snow spraying round his boots as he waded through the swarm of hounds to grab her hand, pulling her back up.

She dusted herself off with one hand, half smiling, "sorry, got a bit slippy. Your pack seems as excited to see me as ever."

Will nodded, one hand fixing his curls back from his face, apologetic, "sorry. For them." She waved a hand, unhurt, and it was then the glimmer in her hand caught his eye - worriedly, Will grasped at Alana's glove, pulling the collar from her grip. "Did this come from Winston?," he held it up to inspect, then cast about for the dog in question.

"I'm sorry, Will," Alana softened more, but Will was already turned away, the golden fur of his newest and strangest acquisition not to be found, "I'll buy him a new one."

It was Will's turn to wave her away, the ground crunching underfoot as he made for the tree line, calling the dog's name. Alana stood for a moment, the pack still swarming around her ankles, they themselves unsure of whether or not to follow their leader, before striding to catch up with him as he set out into the woods. Winston's name haunted his lips in between his hurried explanations - he should have told he about last time, he cursed himself internally, maybe she would have been more careful. (Maybe he should have been more careful, if anything.)

"Winston? Winston!"

Alana's belief in him was limited - Will ignored the prickle of irritation in his throat when she asked him gently if he had simply had another nightmare - but she followed him anyway, calling for the dog's return as dusk crept in. Eventually Will sent her back to his house, keys hastily shoved into her hands, instructions to make herself comfortable and feed the dogs following her back up the path. He kept tracking.

"Winston, here, boy," Will chewed his lip, the glow of the collar dimming in his hand with every passing minute - the sky dimming with it, until his only light came from the crescent moon hanging in the dark above him and the glimmer of the snow below. His fingertips froze as he brushed over paw prints left ahead of him, and he called again.

An echo answered him - it came from behind him, and to the side, and in front, a howl that seemed to stretch on for minutes in its infinite echoing reach, as if it was bouncing off the stars themselves. Will called louder, dropping to his knees in the snow, toes numb in his winter boots. The howl grew louder, the trees seeming to lurch in towards him, the shadows poking their teeth into his shoulders. He remembered the eyes, and searched the darkness with his own, hoping to seek them out again - but this time it is teeth, sharp and cold against his skin, sinking into his bones, and Will opened his arms wide, stretching them into the darkness.

In his hand, the collar glowed brighter, and Will thought of the warmth of the hearth back home, and brushing his hand through Winston's fur at the end of a long day of work. He thought of the shape of Winston's paws when they twitched in dreams, and he stretched his arms wider as if to hug the shadows to him.

The collar glowed brighter again - tears frosted over on Will's cheeks - and the teeth drew back as he thought of the mess of wagging tails coming to greet him at the door, warm tongues washing his cheeks in friendship.

Back the forest pulled from him, but the shadows stayed, heavy in his arms as he hugged them. The collar slipped from his grasp, but when Will opened his eyes, golden brown fur was pressed to him, the leather glowing beneath it, soft panting like music to his ears.

"Love you, Winston," he mumbled into the hound's fluffy ear, and Winston woofed quietly in reply, the shadows waving along with the wag of his tail.

\--

Will drove his usual route to work, the air crisp but warm enough to have the window down. He slowed as he passed the place of Hannibal's pet shop - but, Will's forehead creased in confusion, the buildings had pushed themselves apart again. A concrete wall stood in the place of the store, no sign of what had squeezed between the buildings not a week before. The phone number he had written rings to nothing when he called it. No one at work recognized the name or the description he provided, either.

Will frowned the whole way home, but Winston still greeted him at the door, tail thumping on the carpet.


End file.
